


Airborne

by EASchechter



Series: On his Brother-in-Law's Secret Service. [15]
Category: Cabin Pressure, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-08
Updated: 2012-12-14
Packaged: 2017-11-20 14:22:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/586320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EASchechter/pseuds/EASchechter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taken as hostages, the MJN crew must find a way to escape before the trap is sprung.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"How much longer do we have to wait?" Douglas asked as he sat down in the co-pilot's seat on board GERTI.

Martin glanced down at his watch and nodded. "The meeting is supposed to end in half an hour. Call it another hour. You object to being paid to do nothing? In a nice, quiet airport with nothing blowing up or being destroyed?"

Douglas snorted. "Hardly. Our last layover was far too exciting."

"Yes, if I never have to go back to Manhattan, I'll be a happy man," Martin said quietly.

"We don't have to leave the airport next time."

"No. George can take the next New York run," Martin said firmly. Then he grinned. "And I'm certain Mycroft wants to get home as much as you do. More."

"How do you figure?"

"Tonight is his anniversary," Martin answered as he finished his mental checklist. "Detective Inspector Lestrade will be meeting him at the airfield."

"Ah. Romance," Douglas said with a laugh. "We seem to have a bit of that going around." Martin arched an eyebrow and looked at Douglas, who smirked at him. "Have you noticed that Arthur has been seeing the same young lady for just over three years now?"

"Considering he met Molly the night my daughter was born, yes. I had noticed." Martin looked up as he realized what Douglas wasn't saying. "Douglas, you know something!" he accused.

"I know nothing," Douglas said. Then he smiled. "But I expect an announcement."

Martin laughed, delighted. "Good for him!" He looked over his shoulder, out the open cockpit door. "Where is he, anyway?"

"He went into the terminal. Apparently, he forgot to replenish the coffee supplies before we left London, and he used up the last on the way here."

Martin nodded again. "Poor planning. Both Mister Holmes and Doctor Watson like their coffee, especially after these meetings."

"You would know more about that than I, oh Captain Super Spy."

Martin snorted. "I keep telling you. I'm not a spy."

"You're one of them." Douglas nodded backwards towards the empty passenger compartment. "Part of that department."

"For the training," Martin answered. "Only for the training." He glanced over at Douglas. "Which, I don't have to remind you, kept us both alive in New York."

"For which I am not complaining." Douglas fell silent for a moment, then asked quietly, "Still having nightmares?"

"No," Martin answered, then grimaced. "Well, not much. You?"

"Only when I sleep."

Martin winced, then turned as he heard Arthur's voice, "Skip?"

"Ah, there you are, Arthur. Did you find coffee?" he asked as he started to rise. Halfway out of his chair, he froze, seeing Arthur in the door, pale-faced and trembling. Seeing the man behind him, holding a gun to Arthur's head. To his left, he heard Douglas curse softly.

"All right, let him go," Martin said firmly, slowly starting to draw power to him. One gunman... had to get him away from Arthur... shouldn't be difficult--

Then he let the power flow away and raised his hands as a second gunman moved into view. The first moved back, pulling Arthur towards the rear of the plane, while the second trained his gun on Martin. "Come out, Captain Crieff. You, too, Richardson."

"Have we met?" Douglas asked mildly as he followed Martin out of the cockpit. Martin heard the sound of a blow, and Douglas' grunt of pain. Martin glanced back, saw a third gunman, and swore silently. Too many.

"What do you want?" he demanded, turning back to see the first gunman push Arthur into a seat, then pull a package of long plastic straps out of his coat.

"Nothing from you lot," One answered. He pulled a zip-tie from the package and nodded; immediately, Martin felt cold metal pressing into the side of his neck.

"That's not necessary," he said, not having to work all that hard to fake the fear in his voice. "We're none of us going to fight you."

"No. You're not." One turned back to Arthur and ordered him to his feet, patting him down quickly before securing his wrists behind him with the zip-tie. He pushed Arthur back into the chair and picked up another zip-tie, turning towards Martin. The gun pressed to Martin's neck never moved at One started to pat him down, only to freeze with his hand on Martin's left side.

"Well, there's a surprise," One said, reaching into Martin's coat and taking out the handgun that Martin had been wearing. "Pilots don't usually carry."

Martin bit down on the urge to comment, not resisting as his arms were wrenched behind his back and the plastic tie snugged tightly around his wrists. Only then was the gun removed, and he breathed a small sigh of relief.

"Martin!"

At Douglas' shouted warning, Martin started to turn. Then something hard connected with the back of his head. The last thing he heard was Arthur cry out, and he never felt himself hit the floor.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 Martin groaned, thought about shaking his head, then thought better of it. If he shook his head, it might just fall off. He opened his eyes, blinked and waited for his vision to clear.

"Martin?" Douglas had none of his usual bluster, none of the usual confidence. And the tone in his voice reminded Martin far too much of New York. "Martin, can you hear me?"

"I can hear you," Martin answered, squirming until he had gotten into a sitting position. He blinked again, and the world faded into focus. He was in the baggage compartment, and sitting across from him were Douglas and Arthur. "How long was I out?"

"Not too long. I can't be more specific. I can't see my watch from here."

Martin grinned. "Better. That's more like you. Give me a minute, will you? My head is pounding."

"I'm not surprised," Douglas said. "He damn near took your head clean off. Then you hit the table on the way down."

"Oh, is that why the front of my head feels like someone hit me with a table?" Martin grimaced and took a long breath. "Tell me what you saw," he said in a low voice.

"Three of them, but you knew that," Douglas answered, keeping the same low tones. "They knew who we were. Which means they know who our passengers are."

"Which means that Mycroft and John are probably the targets."

"Targets?" Arthur asked, his voice quiet. "Those men, they're going to kill Mister Holmes and Doctor John?" He frowned, then looked up. "They're going to kill us, too, aren't they?"

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Martin answered. "Trust me, Arthur."

"'Course I trust you, Skip. You can get us out of this," Arthur said. He paused, then asked, "How are you going to get us out of this?"

"Douglas, what else?"

"They searched all of us once you were down. Took our mobiles and wallets," Douglas answered.

"How well did they search?" Martin asked. He couldn't tell if there was anything missing, but with his head pounding, he might be missing them.

"Your coat pockets, and your trouser pockets. Same with me and with Arthur."

Martin smiled, suddenly very satisfied. "Good."

"Why is that good?"

"Because they're morons, that's why," Martin muttered as he got onto his knees. He leaned forward, raised his arms as high as he could, and brought them down hard onto his lower back. On the third repetition, he was rewarded with a sharp snap, and the plastic tie fell to the ground. He picked it up and put it into his coat pocket, then looked at his shocked crew.

"I told you. Training," he said. He moved over to the door and pressed his ear against it, hearing a buzz of conversation outside in the cabin. "Right. I'm going to cut you two loose. But hold that position. If they know we're free, they might just kill us outright."

"Why haven't they yet?" Douglas asked.

Martin frowned, reaching for the knife he carried inside his right boot. He cut the ties that bound Douglas, then moved over to Arthur. "Good question. Why haven't they?"

"Because they need us for something," Arthur said firmly.

"Good, Arthur," Martin said. "Very good. What... the confirmation call. They need us for the confirmation call. One of us has to answer the mobile when Mycroft calls!"

"How could they possibly know.... oh, dear god."

"George," Martin said. "He's either turned, or they've got something on him, and he'd being blackmailed."

"Damn."

Martin nodded as he resumed his seat and tucked his hands behind his back. Douglas and Arthur copied him, and Martin closed his eyes for a moment and tried to ignore the pain.

"Could you turn them into frogs?" Arthur asked.

"No," Martin answered. "For two reasons. First, as I keep telling you, it doesn't work like that. And second, with this head, I'm not going to be doing any magic for a while."

"You're concussed, aren't you?"

"Think so. You might be flying us home, Douglas."

"You keep thinking that, will you?" Douglas looked at the door, then back at Martin. "Do you hear that?"

He needn't have asked. Even with the door closed, Martin could hear the very distinctive ring of his mobile. He swallowed hard and looked at the other two men. "Do not move. No matter what."

A moment later, the door opened, and One walked in, carrying Martin's mobile. "Whose is this?" he demanded.

"Mine," Martin answered. "That's my wife calling."

"Fine." The mobile stopped ringing. One turned to leave, then stopped when Martin spoke again.

"Since I didn't answer it, she's going to be calling back in two minutes. If I don't answer it again, she'll call her father."

"Hovering bitch, ain't she?"

Martin bristled, then forced himself to calm down. "Just let me talk to her."

"Fine. Hey, get in here!"

Two walked in, and One nodded towards Arthur. "That one. I'm going to let the Captain talk to his missus. If he tries to warn her, blow his head off."

"Right."

Two minutes crawled by, and when the mobile started ringing once more, Martin was edgy enough that he jumped. One snickered, then nodded to Two, who pressed the barrel of his gun to Arthur's forehead.

"No tricks," One warned, touching the screen.

"Hello, Lady Crieff," Martin said, never taking his eyes off One.

"Hello, Sir Darling," Livvy answered. "You had me worried there for a moment."

"Sorry. Had my coat off. How's Vee?"

"Uncle Lock wore her out, so they're both napping right now," Livvy said. "It's unbearably adorable. I did get a picture, so you can tell Uncle John."

"I'll do that."

"And I know I'm not supposed to be bothering you at work, Darling, but I couldn't wait." Livvy sounded almost bubbly. "Martin, we have a plus sign."

"A... a plus sign?" For a moment, Martin couldn't remember why that was important. Then he remembered, and his jaw dropped. "A plus sign. Oh...."

"I'm going to try very hard for a boy this time," Livvy continued. Martin felt himself grinning, then swallowed and made up his mind.

"Do that," he said firmly. "And I'll tell you what. When I get home, we'll leave Vee with her grandfather for a few days, and we'll go to Rome. Just you and me. Remember when we went to the Vatican?"

The pause was only noticeable if you knew Livvy. To anyone else, her answer was immediate. "The Vatican was lovely. I'd love to go back."

"We'll see if we can find that cameo maker, too. Would you like that?"

"Oh. Oh, yes. Martin--"

"No objections, Darling. Now, you go have a bit of a lay down. We both know Vee has enough energy for three. You need to take your naps while you can. I love you."

"I love you, too." The line went dead, and Martin licked his lips and looked down. Had they noticed?

"Well, well. Looks like the Captain is going to be a daddy," One said with a laugh. "Too bad the Captain's wife is about to become a widow."

"Kill them now?"

"Not yet. We need them for a bit longer." With that, One and Two left, and the door closed behind them. The compartment was silent for a long moment.

"I'd say congratulations, but I don't think you'd appreciate that," Douglas said drily. Martin looked up and smiled.

"We'll be fine, Douglas," he said softly. "Mycroft will know what's going on as soon as Livvy can make a priority scrambled call. Which she is probably doing right now."

"What? How?"

"Livvy and I have never been to Rome. Vatican cameos is a department code phrase. John came up with it. It means dangerous situation, watch your back. And by telling her that Vee has the energy for three..."

"You were telling her that there were three attackers here," Douglas finished. "Good work, Captain Super Spy."

Martin glared at Douglas, then shifted over to sit next to Arthur. "Arthur? Are you all right?"

"Scared," Arthur mumbled. "I... I want to go home. I'm supposed to have dinner with Moll tonight. I... Mum likes her. Did you know that?"

"We all like her, Arthur."

"I really like her," Arthur added. "And... I was... well, do you think...?"

Martin smiled and nudged Arthur gently with his shoulder. "I think she'll say yes, Arthur."

Arthur looked at him and smiled slightly. "You think so?"

"Yes. And I'm going to make sure you get to ask her."


	3. Chapter 3

 Time seemed to crawl, and none of the men felt much like talking. Martin tipped his head back against the wall and tried to ignore his headache. He couldn't sleep, not with a possible concussion. But he wanted to. Next to him, Arthur was dozing, his head resting against Martin's shoulder. Douglas was staring with single-minded intensity at a spot on the floor.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Martin murmured.

"Thinking of Helena," Douglas said after a moment. "Would Livvy have called her, do you think?"

"Probably. It wouldn't surprise me if your wife is waiting with mine right now," Martin answered. "And probably watching Sherlock going insane--"

"Going?"

Martin grinned, then looked at the door. "Did you hear something?"

"I don't think... yes."

Martin nudged Arthur. "Arthur, wake up. Something is happening."

Arthur blinked, looked confused, then sat up straight."What? Right. Hands behind my back. What's happening?"

"Not sure," Martin murmured. He crawled towards the door and rested his ear against it, listening hard. Voices. Loud. Sounded agitated. He glanced over at Douglas. "It's been an hour or so, hasn't it?" Douglas checked his watch and nodded, and Martin went back to listening. Then he heard it -- a distant gunshot. He rose and silently gestured to the others to move into the corner that would be hidden by the opening door. Once they were in position, Martin placed himself in the corner facing them, on the other side of the door. Then he waited, eyes half-closed, listening.

As he expected, the door swung open, and Two came in, his gun leading the way. Three years of training took over, and it was almost too easy for Martin to disarm him -- grabbing the gun with one hand while driving his elbow into Two's nose. There was a satisfying crunch, and Two crumpled, seemingly unconscious, leaving Martin with the gun as he moved back into the relative safety of the corner. The gun, to Martin's surprise, was his own, and he took a moment to check the clip before hazarding a quick look out into the passenger compartment.

Which was empty. He frowned and took step forward, stepping carefully over Two's prone body.

"Martin!"

"There's no one out there," Martin hissed back. "Douglas, you and Arthur stay here." He didn't wait for an argument, moving out into the passenger compartment. The mobiles were on the table, and he picked his up and tapped the screen, holding it to his ear while he walked through GERTI and back, checking every place that someone could possibly hide.

After a long time ringing, someone finally answered. "Martin. Are you all right?"

"Yes, sir," Martin answered, looking around once more. "The attackers appear to be gone, though. Except for one of them."

"You handled him?"

"Yes, sir. He's still alive, in case you want him."

"Good. Is the crew safe and unhurt?"

"Douglas and Arthur are fine. A bit of a fright for them, really. I might have a concussion."

He heard Mycroft sigh. "Your wife won't approve, Martin. Three, were there?"

"Yes, sir."

"Doctor Watson saw to two of them. So you have the survivor. Secure him, and we'll be along presently." With that, Mycroft was gone, and Martin slipped his mobile into his pocket.

"All right. We're secure," he called. Arthur and Douglas came out of the baggage compartment, with Douglas looking with distaste down at Two.

"What do we do with him?" Douglas wanted to know.

"Keep him for Mycroft," Martin answered, sitting down at the table. "What do we have that we can use to secure him?"

"Tank tape?" Arthur suggested.

"Perfect. Pull that out, will you?" Martin laid his gun down on the table and rubbed his face, wincing as his fingers found the lump on his forehead.

"Paracetamol?" Douglas asked.

"And ice, please." Martin closed his eyes and sighed, hearing Douglas moving towards the galley. Then his mobile rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at it, then touched the screen. "Hello, Doctor."

"We're coming in. Don't shoot."

Martin snorted. "I won't."

A few minutes later, Martin was being examined by John Watson while Mycroft oversaw securing the remaining attacker.

"Who the hell are they?" Martin asked as John shone a small light into his eyes.

"Cut-rate assassins. Hired by someone. We'll find out who. And you think George fed them the information?"

"They knew our names. They knew about the confirmation call. They knew our procedures. There's no one else who could have told them that."

"Right. I'll call Jim, get him on this." John sat down facing Martin. "You, Captain, are not flying us home."

"I didn't think I was. I already told Douglas that he was probably flying. Will I be able to co-pilot?"

"I don't think that would be wise. We'll manage. You need to rest. You've had  paractamol. Take some ice, and go stretch out on the couch."

"But the safety checks--"

"That is an order, Martin," John said firmly.

"Yes, sir."


	4. Chapter 4

 To Martin's surprise, he fell asleep almost at once. He woke up slowly, hearing the purr of GERTI's engines, and over that the sounds of John and Mycroft talking in low voices, the clicking of someone's laptop keys, and Arthur puttering about the cabin.

"You awake, Skip?" Martin blinked and looked up to see Arthur standing over him, a steaming cup in his hand. He smiled and offered the cup to Martin. "Thought you might want some."

"Thank you." Martin sat up slowly and winced.

"How's the head?" John asked.

"I still have one. That's about the only plus..." Martin stopped, suddenly remembering Livvy's call. He grinned and took the cup from Arthur, taking a sip.

"Martin, you look like the cat in the cream," Mycroft accused gently. "Why is a plus so amusing?"

Martin smiled. "Oh, you'll find out... Grandda."

Mycroft's eyes widened, just enough that Martin knew the older man was well and truly surprised. Then he smiled and looked back down at his computer. "I'll be sure to be surprised when she tells me."

"Like she won't know the minute she sees you," John scoffed.

"I think she'll be a touch distracted," Mycroft said. "She was quite worried when I spoke to her."

"Martin, how did you let her know without letting on to the assassins?" John asked.

"Oh, that's your fault."

John frowned. "Mine?"

"Vatican cameos."

John smiled broadly. "Glad to see that came in handy."

"How long was I asleep?" Martin asked.

"About two hours," John answered. "And I want you to sleep more when you get home. As much as you can."

Martin nodded, then looked down at his cup. "This is decaf, isn't it?"

Arthur grinned. "Yeah, Skip. Doctor John said you need to sleep. And if you couldn't tell on the first sip, that means I got the mix right."

"You did. This is palatable. Thank you, Arthur."

"Thank you, Skip. For keeping your promise." Martin looked up, and Arthur clasped his hands behind his back. "You got us out of there."

"Arthur, if you're finished giving Captain Super Spy a headache on top of his headache, kindly come and keep me company?" Douglas called from the cockpit. "We're about to start our approach."

"Mycroft," Martin said as Arthur hurried away. "What about him?" He pointed to the closed door to the baggage compartment.

"Napoleon is bringing a team to take him into custody," Mycroft answered.

"Good. Any idea who hired them?"

Mycroft pursed his lips, then shook his head. "No. But we'll know soon, I trust. You did very well, Martin."

Martin smiled. "Thank you, sir."

"Would you be interested, perhaps, in further training? I have some associates who could do a great deal with your potential."

Martin blinked in surprise, then looked down at his coffee cup. The liquid inside was shaking violently. "I... would have to discuss that with Livvy, sir," he said without looking up.

"Very good. Let me know what you decide."

Martin frowned. "I don't want to be a spy, Mycroft."

"I would never ask that of you. You're not the right person for that sort of work, Martin. No, I was thinking perhaps of you training with Napoleon, with an eye to taking a more active role in the department."

"What role?" John asked, turning in his seat to look at Mycroft.

Mycroft looked at John, his gaze level. "For your assistant, John. For when you take over command of the department."

John sat up straight, his eye wide. "My what? For when?"

Mycroft smiled slightly. "I'm not a young man, John. And Olivia is no longer viable as a candidate to take over the department. Surely you've noticed I've been involving you in the more... sensitive... areas of our work?"

John looked stunned, and didn't answer. Mycroft turned back to Martin. "You have the aptitude, Martin. This is not something I would ask you to decide immediately. Talk to Olivia. Talk to Napoleon. Understand fully what it is that I'm asking of you. Then we'll discuss it further."

Martin nodded, unable to force his thoughts into anything close to coherency. His lack of words was covered nicely by Douglas' voice, "Gentlemen, if you would please prepare for landing?"

#

Out of habit, Martin remained on board GERTI until the final flight checks were done, ignoring Douglas' jibes that he was being a mother hen. They left the plane together, and as Martin stepped onto the tarmac, he was hit by a small, flame-haired missle.

"Papa!!!!"

Martin laughed and swung his daughter up into the air, hearing her giggle as he settled her onto his hip. "Hello, angel. Been good for Mommy?"

"She's been very good," Livvy answered as she came towards them. With her was Helena Richardson, who launched herself at Douglas and hugged him tightly, then punched him hard in the shoulder.

"Don't do that!" she demanded. "Don't ever do that again!"

"Darling, it was hardly my idea!" Douglas protested. He leaned down and kissed his wife, then hugged her tightly. "I'll try very hard not to do it again. Will that do?"

"I suppose it will have to," Helena answered. She turned to face Martin, who set Violet down, just in case Helena decided to hit him, too.

"And as for you, Captain," Helena said. "Brace yourself." Without warning, she put her hands on Martin's shoulders and kissed him, hard. Martin froze, near panic for a moment, then relaxed. Helena was safe. He knew that. So he kissed her back, letting her set the pace.

"Thank you, Martin. For bringing them home," she said softly as she pulled back.

"You're welcome, Helena."

"You'll come to dinner?"

"Not tonight," Livvy answered. "Martin needs a good night's sleep. Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow." Helena kissed Livvy on the cheek, then turned to Douglas. Douglas nodded and went to Martin, holding his hand out.

"Good night, Captain."

"Good night, Douglas." Martin smiled as Douglas hugged him, then turned towards Livvy. He stopped and smiled. "Look."

Near the MJN office, Arthur was standing with Carolyn and Molly. Nearby were Mycroft and Greg, and Sherlock, John and Jim. All of the men were grinning, watching as Arthur took Molly's hand and went to one knee in front of her. Molly's gasp and squeal were clearly audible.

"Oh, good show," Douglas murmured.

"Good show indeed," Martin agreed. "Let's go home.


End file.
